


You'll Always Be My Princess

by angelsfalling16



Series: 20 First Kisses [13]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Pet Names, SnowBaz, and was a lot of fun to write, this is just really cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 03:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18202790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfalling16/pseuds/angelsfalling16
Summary: Simon wants Baz to stop calling him ‘Snow’, so Baz comes up with a bunch of other names to call him.





	You'll Always Be My Princess

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was so much fun to write, and I think it might be one of my favorite fics that I've written. I hope you like it!
> 
> Thank you @wo2ash and @pixiecodesnowbaz on Tumblr for beta reading!! <3

**Simon**

The sky outside the window is dark, filling with clouds as the sun sets and the moon rises to take its place. The windows are thrown open, which drives Baz crazy, but I don’t care. It allows me to feel the warm breeze as I sit on my bed, struggling to work. I can’t seem to concentrate because my eyes keep drifting over to the other occupant of the room, trying to figure out whether I should be worried about him. His hair is in the way, having fallen out of its slicked back state as the day dragged on, and it’s blocking his face from view. Despite this, I still can’t bring myself to look away.

He hasn’t been acting very suspicious recently, which is in itself suspicious. He’s almost always up to something, so this must be the calm before the storm. He has to be plotting something.

“Stop staring at me, Snow,” he sneers without turning away from whatever he’s working on at his desk. No doubt, he’s not having any trouble at all with his homework. He never has trouble with it.

I’m glad that he doesn’t look at me because it means that he can’t see the blush spreading on my cheeks from getting caught thinking about his hair instead of reading the book in front of me. I consider denying it for a moment, but I’m too tired to argue with him right now.

“Stop calling me Snow,” I say with a yawn, closing my book and deciding that I’m going to shower and get ready for bed. I’ve had enough of reading the same paragraph over and over without taking anything.

“Why?” He asks, turning around to look at me now as I stand up. “It’s your name.”

“Why can’t you just call me Simon?” I ask him, stretching my arms above my head as I walk over to grab some clean clothes to change into.

He looks at me with disgust before sneering, “I don’t want to.”

“Well, I don’t want you to call me Snow.”

“Fine. I won’t call you Snow anymore.”

I’m caught of guard by how easily he agrees to it. We have been having this argument for years, so why is he giving in now? I look at him suspiciously, but he turns back to the paper he had been previously writing on.

I stand there for another moment, wondering whether I should confront him. But then another yawn takes hold, and I decide that I can wait until tomorrow to figure this out. He was probably just trying to placate me, and the next time that he says something to me, he’ll call me Snow again, followed by an insult. We’ll go right back to normal, and I can go back to figuring out what he’s plotting.

***

On the way to my second class of the morning the next day, my eyes fall on Baz as we pass by each other. He sneers at me as usual, and I remember the conversation that we had last night.

He was gone from the room when I got out of the shower, probably having gone off to the Catacombs like he does most nights, so I still don’t know whether he plans on sticking to his word.

I’m not watching where I’m going as I glare at the strand of hair that has miraculously managed to stray from its slick-backed state. When someone bumps into me, I just barely keep myself from falling, but my shoulder bumps against Baz’s pretty hard. He manages not to stumble, balance perfect as always.

He glares at me as I move away from him, trying not to knock into anyone else as I do.

“Watch where you’re going, Sn—.” He cuts himself off with a cough, covering it up. Then, a wicked grin spreads across his face, and he says, “Watch where you’re going, _shnookums_.”

I’m about to yell at him, tell him that I hadn’t meant to bump into him, but then his words sink in.

I-I—. What?” I splutter.

“I said watch where you’re going shnookums.” He says it again, and it only makes it worse. He smirks at the look of disbelief on my face, taking obvious delight in it.

“Why are you calling me that?” I finally manage, but it comes out squeakier than I intended.

“I’m sorry, would you prefer to be called sweetie? Or honeypie?”

“Why can’t you just call me by my name?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him. So, this is why he gave in. I should have known that he would never be that agreeable. He is definitely planning something.

“You didn’t want me to call you Snow, so I’m not,” he says like it’s no big deal.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I say.

“Too late.”

I growl, wanting to hit him.

“So, did you need something, honey?” He asks in what would be a sweet tone, if he wasn’t glaring at me like that.

“No,” I grit out, shoving past him. “I’m good.”

As I walk away from him, I decide that two can play this game.

**Baz**

Simon walks into our Political Science class, and if it were possible for looks to kill, I’d be dead where I sit. I brace myself for what’s about to come, as he heads my way. He didn’t yell at me when I called him the pet name. He just got flustered and walked away. Snow never backs down from a fight, so I’m surprised.

I look up as he moves closer to where I sit, taking the long way around to get to his own seat.

“Hey, babe,” Simon murmurs as he passes by my desk, trailing his fingers along the edge, just barely grazing my arm. I try not to react as both his touch and voice send shivers down my spine.

He isn’t quiet enough as he speaks, and there are a few hushed gasps as some of our classmates turn to look at us. They look between me and Simon, who is now at his seat and pretending like he doesn’t realize the reaction that he caused in our peers.

I sneer at the people around me, even as I feel my face warm, and most of them look away. I still hear the whispers, but I can’t make out what exactly anyone is saying.

What was that? I wonder.

He has to be messing with me. It was obviously just a joke to get back at me for earlier. It definitely should not be affecting me like this, leaving me wanting more of his touch. I shouldn’t want him to call me that again.

Except I do. Because I’m helplessly in love with him, and I’ve dreamt about him using pet names on me. I just always thought that that would be the only place where he did that, inside my head.

Now that I’ve heard him actually say it, I want to hear him do it again. Even if it’s all just a game and will never mean anything to him, I can’t help but wish for more.

Then, it does happen again. We pass each other in the hall again after this class, and I have a sneaking suspicion that he goes out of his way to do that.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Simon calls with a teasing grin.

Instead of getting flustered this time, I immediately respond with, “Hey, hot stuff.”

I watch as Simon’s eyes widen comically right before he stumbles and nearly falls into some third year passing by him in the opposite direction. I just smirk at him and keep walking. As the morning passes, it seems to become a competition between the two of us to see who can catch the other off guard and fluster the other more with our choice of words.

I have no idea who’s winning, and I’m having too much fun to find it in me to care. I know that this can only end badly, but I can’t seem to stop. I love the way his mouth shapes those words and the way that his low voice sounds saying them, like they’re only meant for my ears.

**Simon**

At lunch, I begin to notice that other people have taken a deep interest in what Baz and I have been saying to each other today. Actually, I don’t notice it until Penny points it out to me. We’re sitting there quietly eating lunch, and I’ve tuned everything else out, too focused on my food to notice anything else that’s happening around me. Well, to notice anything except for Baz.

It’s like there’s a shift in the room when he walks in. Nothing changes, but it’s like his magic is so familiar to me from years of sharing a room with him that I can feel him enter the room, a shiver running through my body. My eyes are drawn to him as he walks across the dining hall. He’ll have to pass by our table on the way to his own, and I feel my heart racing at the prospect of him calling me a pet name.

I shouldn’t be looking forward to this so much, but Baz saying anything that could be considered nice to me is such a new experience. Even most of the sarcasm has left his voice while he says them. There have been a couple of times this morning where I began to wonder if there was some real feeling behind his words, but then I told myself that I was just being ridiculous. Baz will never see me as anything more than his rival, his roommate. I have to remind myself that this is all just a game to him, a way to mess with my head.

It’s hard to remember this when it feels like we’re having fun together. I’ve never done anything that could be considered fun with Baz, and this is beginning to make me wonder if I’ve been missing out on something with him all this time.

I shake myself as he grows nearer. He’s looking off in a different direction, and I feel my heart fall with the realization that he probably hasn’t even noticed me. But then he turns his head, his gaze falling on me with a strange glint before his face falls into its usual state of indifference.

“Dear,” he says simply as he walks past me.

“Beloved,” I respond without missing a beat.

I wish for a moment that I could see his reaction when I say it, but then I remind myself that it doesn’t matter. I watch as he walks away to join his friends, wishing that he would turn back, unsure why I want that, but he doesn’t.

“So, it’s true,” Penny says, pulling my attention away from Baz finally.

“What’s true?” I ask her.

“You and Baz.”

“Oh,” I say distractedly. “Yeah.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since this morning.”

“Really?” She sounds surprised but interested.

I shrug. “It’s just a game.”

“A game?” She asks, sounding confused now.

“Yeah. He started calling me pet names when I asked him to stop calling me Snow, so I started doing it back.” I shrug again, like it’s nothing. I don’t mention the way my heart begins to race when I see him or when he turns his gaze on me.

“People think that you like each other.”

“What?” I ask a little too loudly.

“They think that you’re dating.”

“Why would they think that? We’re rivals. Roommates. Whatever. We definitely aren’t dating.”

I can feel myself getting flustered, but I don’t care because I don’t understand why people would think. It’s not like we’ve been holding hands or hanging out together. We’re just calling each other names. Granted, they’re nicer names than we usually would call each other, but it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a game.

“Seriously? You two have been calling each other pet names, like two people in a relationship might do.”

“It’s just a game,” I say out loud this time, “to see who can irritate the other the most.”

“It doesn’t seem like a game. It looks like you’re flirting with each other.”

“But we’re not.” I can feel my face warming.

“Then, maybe you should stop.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Because…” But I can’t think of a good enough reason. At least, not one that I want to admit out loud.

As I look around the Dining Hall, I realize that maybe she’s right. There are still a few people looking back and forth between me and Baz, and if I had been paying attention a few minutes ago, I probably would have seen a lot more eyes on us when he passed by me.

People definitely think that something is up, and I know that Baz won’t be happy about that. He would hate to be associated with me in that way. We have to put a stop to this.

**Baz**

“Baz,” Simon hisses. His grip is tight on my arm as he pulls me into a secluded hallway after lunch.

“Yes, darling?” I smirk at him.

“Stop that,” he says, letting go of my arm.

“People are starting to talk.”

“Talk about what?” I ask him, raising my eyebrows at him and crossing my arms as I lean back against the wall.

“Us. They think that we like each other.”

“So?” I say, like it’s nothing. Like the wall isn’t the only thing keeping me upright, like my heart didn’t just start racing at the realization that people might find out how I feel about Simon now.

I’ve held this secret in for long enough, though. Maybe it’s time for people to know. Maybe I would feel better if this secret wasn’t weighing me down. Even if Simon doesn’t feel the same.

“Don’t you care?” He asks, looking at me with wide eyes.

Of course, I care. I’ve been keeping this secret for years, and I don’t know if I’m completely ready for people to know. It might be too late now.

I shrug. “Let them think what they want.”

“Fine,” he says with a huff. Then, his expression changes. It’s minute, but I’ve watched him enough notice the slightest change, even when it’s just a new glint in his eyes. “If that’s how you want it to be.” The tone of his voice has changed, too.

“I really don’t care,” I lie, but I’ve decided that I might as well enjoy this while it lasts.

“Okay.” The glint in his eye grows brighter, more of a spark now, and one corner of his mouth quirks up. Crowley, I’m screwed. “Remember that later.”

That can’t be good. What does that even mean?

Before I can ask, Simon walks away. However, it isn’t long before I find out. The next time I see him, the game changes. It isn’t just pet names anymore. Simon begins moving closer to me when he talks, using gentle touches, and it’s the most skin contact we’ve ever had outside of a fight. It’s simultaneously the best thing and the worst thing.

**Simon**

If Baz isn’t going to be bothered by what our schoolmates are saying about us, neither am I. I mean, why not have some fun with this? I can find all sorts of ways to make him squirm without having to fight him.

It’s fun to watch him like this and think that I might even prefer this to the fighting. I file that thought away under the list of things that I refuse to think about, along with the fact that my heart seems to speed up whenever he’s near.

“There you are, love,” I say to Baz the next time that I see him, slipping my arm around his waist and walking alongside him like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“What are you doing?” He asks quietly. I can tell that he tries to sound angry, but it comes out a little too soft for that.

“Nothing,” I tell him, shrugging.

“Then, let go of me.” He tries to pull out of my grasp, but I won’t let him go.

I tighten my hold around him, and he stops fighting it. He feels tense still, and I absentmindedly begin running my thumb in circles on his waist. He relaxes just slightly, and I smile to myself.

“Still want me to let go?” I ask him.

I attempt to keep my voice low, not wanting to draw too much attention to us. I don’t think about why that is when this is all supposed to be for show. The only thing I’m focused on right now is the way that he feels under my arm and the sound of his voice when he responds.

“Yes,” he says, but I notice that he doesn’t attempt to pull away this time.

“Why?”

“Because people are staring.”

“I thought that you didn’t care what they thought,” I say with a teasing smile.

“I don’t.”

“Good,” I tell him, turning to whisper in his ear. My lips just barely graze his jaw as I say, “I’ll see you later, sweetie.”

I can only imagine what that might have looked like to others. Maybe it seemed like I kissed him. I blush strangely at that thought of kissing him. I drop around my arm from around him as I step towards my classroom.

“Bye, darling,” he says through gritted teeth, and I flash him one last grin, ignoring the shivers that run down my spine when our arms brush against each other as we part ways.

I don’t know what’s happening to me, why I’m being affected this way. I watch him walk away, leaning against the wall next to the open door of my classroom. I don’t even care what others who might be watch us must be thinking right now. I only care about the smile that plays on my lips as I watch him go.

**Baz**

 The next morning, I sit up in bed, blinking against the bright sun pouring in through the window. I look over at Simon’s bed, and he’s already up, like usual. The only difference today is that my heart races at the thought of seeing him again.

I swear that I can still feel everywhere that his skin touched mine yesterday, can still feel the weight of his strong arm around my waist. I wonder if he plans on continuing all of that today. My heart falls as I then consider the possibility of us going back to fighting after everything. I don’t want that. I know that what we’re doing can’t last forever, but I do not want to go back to the way that we were.

After he first walked with his arm around me, every pet name we used was accompanied by a touch. His hand settling on my lower back, my fingers trailing down his arm, his hand gripping the end of my jumper sleeve, keeping me from straying too far away, my hand gripping his muscular upper arm. The touches were all gentle, not showing any of the anger that we usually hold for each other.

It’s a huge change, a nice change. I don’t want to change back, but I don’t know how to tell him that. I rub my eyes and get out of bed. Maybe a nice shower will help me think things through. I turn to my wardrobe and pull out a fresh, laundered uniform.

“Good morning, darling,” a low voice practically growls behind me. Just barely managing to keep a hold on my clothes, I turn to see Simon stepping out of our en suite.

I’ve imagined Simon saying those exact words to me so many times before, but it was always in a very different context. Right now, it feels wrong. It isn’t real, and a part of me hates that, hates this stupid game that started.

I hate that it _is_ just a game to him, that it doesn’t mean to him what it means to me. Yet, I can’t find it in me to put a stop to it. If this is all I’ll ever get with Simon Snow, then I’m going to make it last. Even if it’s going to wreck me when it’s all over.

“Morning, honey,” I respond.

I make my way across our room to the bathroom, and he reaches out to grab my wrist. I look down at it, thinking about how of all of touching we’ve done, we haven’t held hands yet. He just holds my hand for a quiet moment as our eyes meet, and it feels like that one moment drags on for hours as I stare into those sparkling blue eyes, so beautiful even though the color is nothing but ordinary.

His eyes drop down to my mouth, and I’m almost certain that I imagine the tip of his tongue dart out between his lips. When he finally pulls his hand away, his fingers drag across the sensitive skin at the inside of my wrist, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

“I’ll see you at breakfast, my princess,” he murmurs.

I gasp quietly, and he smirks at me. I glare at him as he begins to walk away from me.

“I’m not a princess,” I sneer, but it doesn’t come out as harsh as I wanted.

He turns back to me, and with a small, almost shy smile, he says, “but you could be my princess.”

His voice is quiet, and I wait for him to laugh, to make a joke out of it. I’m sure the expression on my face is funny enough, but he doesn’t laugh. His smile starts to falter, and I think that he might actually be serious.

“What do you mean?” I ask him. Because there’s no way that he means what I think he does.

“I—. Nothing.” His eyes are wide, and he takes a step back. “Sorry,” he murmurs, continuing his backward walk towards the door. “See you later.”

Then, he’s gone.

I have no idea what just happened, but something has definitely changed. Again.

I have to find a way to get back in control of this game.

**Simon**

Baz doesn’t come to breakfast. My eyes are practically glued to the door, but I never see him walk through them. It isn’t unusual for him to skip breakfast (and I really shouldn’t care) but I want him here for some reason.

“You’re sulking,” Penny states when we start to climb the stairs of the Weeping Tower up to the classrooms above the Dining Hall. It feels like the climb lasts forever without Baz around for me to keep an eye on. “Why?”

“I’m not,” I tell her distractedly.

We reach the landing above, and I turn towards where my class is. Baz is there, leaning against the wall and looking…. He looks….

“Simon,” Penny says, elbowing me as people try to push around me because I’ve stopped right at the top of the stairs.

“Sorry. I—. I’ll catch up with you later,” I say, not even looking back at her as I cross over to stand in front of Baz. “You look….” I still can’t find the words.

“Drop-dead gorgeous?” He supplies, and my eyes are drawn down to his glossy lips.

 _Yes_. Damn. He really is, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him.

His eyes are circled in a ring of black, a smoky black dusting over his eyelids, making his eyes look a bright silver color. His face is…. It’s doing this shimmery thing where, when the light hits it, it seems to sparkle. His hair is falling in waves around his face, and my fingers itch to tuck it behind his ear.

“Close your mouth, my dear. That look does not become you.”

Before I can even think about moving, his index finger is under my chin, pushing my mouth closed as he stares at it. His tongue darts out for a moment to lick across his lips, and I track the movement with my eyes, hoping that he doesn’t hear me swallow when I notice the glittery black on his fingernails.

He pulls his hand away, and as he does, his thumb drags down my bottom lip and over my chin.

I can’t tell if he did that intentionally or not, and for some reason, I want him to do it again. I want to feel the pad of his thumb on my lips and his fingers trailing across my cheek.

My breath hitches as his eyes linger on my mouth for a moment longer before he looks back up to meet my eyes. I don’t know what’s going on with me. First the comment about him being my princess and now this? There is definitely something wrong with me, and if I stay with him for a moment longer, I might do or say something worse.

“I-I have to go,” I mumble quickly, reluctantly pulling my eyes away from him.

“Bye, darling,” he says quietly, his tone strange, but I refuse to turn back around and look at him. Even as I walk away, I can still see him.

Drop-dead gorgeous is a perfect way to describe him and admitting that isn’t as bad as I thought it would be, which is strange. I shouldn’t be having these feelings about my roommate. I shouldn’t have any feeling for him because he isn’t just my roommate; he’s my rival.

All morning, I can’t keep my eyes off of him, and every time he comes near me, I lose the ability to speak, to form coherent sentences.

The pet names have become almost normal now. I’m used to it. But the way that my skin feels like it might catch fire every time that he drags his polished nails across it is new, which he does quite a bit. It seems that whenever he gets the chance, he finds an excuse to put his fingers on any piece of exposed skin that he can find. Like after our poli-sci class.

We’re walking side by side now, which seems to have become custom at this point, and his fingers graze across the back of my hand. It could have been an accident if it didn’t happen again. And then again. Baz continues to do this, rub his hand against mine without actually attempting to hold it, until we reach the door of his next class.

We don’t separate immediately, neither of us seeming to want to leave each other’s presence for whatever reason. He turns to face me, leaning with his shoulder against the wall, and we both just stand there, watching each other, until he finally breaks the silence with a strange, gentle smile on his face.

**Baz**

“Se skeftomai sinehia, agapi mou. Ise I zoi mou.”

Simon just stares at me for a moment (mouth sealed tightly this time) as he takes in the meaning. I’m not sure he understands at first. I doubt he pays very much attention during our Greek course since his eyes always seem to be on me instead of the Minotaur. But then his eyes widen slightly, and I’m pretty sure he’s figure it out.

“You—? A-are you s-serious?” He’s stumbling over his words even more than usual. His expression is unreadable, though. I have no idea what he’s thinking. This should mean that I’m winning the game, but this is too real. My feelings are too real, and I meant every word that I said to him.

“Of course not,” I say, laughing nervously and feeling awful for it. I’m panicking about my sudden confession. “This is all just a game, remember?” _I wish it wasn’t_ , I want to add, but I keep my mouth shut.

“Right.” I’m sure that I imagine the way that his face falls along with the disappointment in his voice because in the next moment, he’s smiling again and saying, “Se latrevo, agapi mou.” He pronunciation isn’t perfect, but I can tell that he really tried. I just can’t tell if he meant it.

I open my mouth to say something – anything – to ask him if he really means that because judging from the way that he’s looking at me, he does. But I can’t be sure, and my heart appears to be trying to beat out of my chest. I’m about to just come out and ask him when Bunce storms up and pulls Simon away by his arm, whispering something into his ear.

 

**Simon**

Penny drags me away from Baz and towards our next class. I glance over my shoulder at him, and he’s watching me, looking just as confused as I feel. I wonder what would have happened if Penny hadn’t interrupted because I know what I wanted to happen.

“What was that?” Penny hisses.

“What was what?” I ask stupidly, still slightly dazed from what Baz just said.

There’s no way that that was part of the game. The way that he said it was full of too much emotion, and the look in his eyes was too sincere. I refuse to believe that he didn’t mean it.

Her grip on my arm tightens, forcing me to focus.

“‘I adore you’? Really, Simon?” Her voice keeps getting louder, like she’s scolding me. She doesn’t sound angry, but I can’t tell what exactly she is. “That’s what you told him? That you _adore_ him?”

I simply shrug, which is difficult to do when it feels like she is about to rip my arm from its socket.

“I didn’t even think you paid attention during Greek.”

I shrug again and say, “I do sometimes.”

“Like when it teaches you ways to woo Baz?”

“Woo him? Wh–? No. That’s not—. We’re not—. It’s just a game.”

“Are you sure about that?” She asks, her voice softening.

I’m not, not anymore, but I can’t admit that to her.

“Did you hear what he said before that?” I ask as we step into our class room. If she did, I’m curious to know what she thinks. Maybe she can give me some clarity on it. Does she think that he was serious?

“No. What did he say?”

“Nothing,” I say, slouching down in my seat. “It’s not important.”

Except it is. Because what he said was filled with so much feeling and meaning that I want to race back and demand that he tell me if it was true, if this is more than just a game.

“You do remember that he’s your rival, right?” She asks, dropping her voice to a whisper as our teacher begins to talk.

I shrug. “Yeah, so?”

“ _So_ , you can’t let him reel you in and let you think that you two are suddenly on good terms.”

“Why can’t we be friends?” I ask her, realizing as I say it that I sound disappointed. I hadn’t realized until today that that’s something I might want with him.

“You can, but only if you trust him.”

I want her to say more about this, to know whether she would really be okay with me and Baz being friends, but the teacher levels us with a quelling glare, so we stop talking.

I want to trust Baz. I really want to trust him. I don’t want us to always be fighting. I don’t want to feel like I constantly have to watch my back when he’s around. I really like what’s been happening with him over the past day and a half, and I want it to continue. I just have to figure out how to make that happen.

As I think about this, his words echo around inside of my head. _I think about you constantly, my love. You are my life._

**Baz**

At first, I thought that the makeup might have been too much, but the moment he saw me, any doubt that I was having was gone. He was speechless, and the feeling of his eyes raking up and down my body caused wonderful sensations to shoot through me.

Now, after what happened in the hall, things are continuing to change. Right before lunch, I’m being yanked into a hall, the same one from yesterday, and I come face to face with Simon.

“Is this going to become a thing between us now?” I ask him with a raised brow.

I was talking about the hallway, but now I can hear the possible double meaning in it.

He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes as he takes a step forward has me backing away from him until my back hits the wall. When he stops moving towards me, there is just an inch of space left between our bodies. I don’t know what he’s doing, but I don’t want him to stop.

“Hey, pumpkin,” I say when he still doesn’t say anything.

“Hi, cherry,” he replies.

I laugh, and I’m surprised at how easy the sound comes, at how carefree it sounds.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I tell him, still smiling.

“I know. I’m hungry, and I’m running out of names to use.” His eyes fall on my lips for just a moment before his intense gaze meets my eyes again.

“That’s too bad,” I say, leaning back into the wall, hoping to put just a little bit more space between us, “because I have a whole list of them.”

He gawks at me for a second before his features change again. “A list? Is this a physical list?”

Suddenly, he’s leaning toward me and bringing one hand up to rest on the wall beside my head. The other one hovers in the air, inches away from my hip, before dropping back down to his side. He is so close that I have to tilt my head down to meet his eyes. When he speaks again, his breath ghosts across my cheek.

“Can I see the list?” He whispers.

“Nope.” Crowley, it sounds too breathy, but I can hardly find it in me to care at this point. “It’s in my head.”

“And why exactly do you have a list of pet names?” He asks, raising a golden brow at me. “Were you planning on using them on someone in particular?”

I feel myself blush. “N-no.”

His lips are right there, smirking at me, and all I would have to do is lean forward just slightly. Then, we would be kissing. I hold myself back.

“That didn’t sound too convincing. Do you perhaps have a crush on someone?” His tone is teasing.

“No,” I tell him. “I don’t have a crush.”

He tsks at me. “I can see it on your face when you’re lying, you know?” He brings up the hand that isn’t supporting him on the wall and trails his finger down the side of my face. I have to suppress a shiver. “You’re blushing.” He pulls his finger away and stares at it for a moment. “So sparkly,” he whispers almost to himself. Then, he brings his thumb up to drag across the top of my chin, tantalizingly close to my lower lip. “And your breathing has quickened.”

If I had known that wearing makeup would cause this reaction in him, I would have done it a long time ago. He definitely knows now. There’s no way that he doesn’t how I feel about him.

“See? So, who is it? Maybe we can make them jealous.”

Or maybe he doesn’t know.

“Why would you want to do that?” I ask him curiously.

He shrugs. “Because you deserve to be happy, Baz,” he says, almost shyly, actually using my name.

What the fuck does that mean? And why does he care whether or not I’m happy?

“I…” I drift off, suddenly at a loss for words. “There’s no one else, Simon.”

His eyes light up with both surprise and confusion, and I realize too late that I’ve just called him Simon. He just stands there, not saying anything. I’ve seriously messed up now.

I place my hands flat against his chest, and it takes what little self-control that I have left to push him away instead of pulling him closer.

“I have to go,” I murmur. Then, I take off before he recovers the ability to function enough to stop me.

**Simon**

I have no idea what just happened. What does he mean there’s no one else? He can’t mean me. There’s no way that he a crush on me.

Except…maybe there is. Maybe he’s feeling just as confused as I am. Although, if he really did have a list of pet names, that means that he would have liked me for more than just the last couple of days. Is that even possible? Is it possible that I…that I like him?

Yes. That’s obvious enough. The confusing thing is that I’m not seeing him any differently than I have before, which means… It means that my feelings for him may have been buried, which might also explain how I never noticed how he felt. But then why did Baz—?

Oh. Oh, no. He left because he doesn’t think that I feel the same, and I just let him walk away. I didn’t even attempt to stop him.

Damn it. I have to fix this. Now.

I run straight for Mummers House, and I’m surprised when I actually find him in our room. I had expected him to be hidden away somewhere. Down in the Catacombs or out in the Wavering Woods.

“Baz,” I say as I close the door behind me, slightly out of breath from practically running all the way here.

He turns away from the window, looking surprised to so see me. He clearly didn’t think that I was going to come after him.

“Are you okay?” I ask him softly, not sure how else to start this conversation, not sure what I even want to say.

“I’m tired of playing this game,” he says. I’m surprised by the honesty of the statement, the gentleness of his voice.

“You’re the one who started it,” I say, not unkindly.

I want to move closer to him, but I don’t. I stay near the door, waiting to see what he says before I decide what to do about this. About us.

“I know.” He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. Meeting my eyes, his voice is even softer as he repeats, “I know I did.” His eyes are a stormy grey color now, and he sounds so defeated.

“So, we’ll stop,” I tell him. I won’t make him do anything that will hurt him. I don’t want to be the person causing him pain anymore.

“Okay.” He turns back to face the window.

“Baz,” I begin, but he shakes his head at me.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly that I almost don’t hear him.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take that. Does he mean _everything_ everything or just everything from the past couple of days? I quickly decide that it doesn’t matter.

I walk across the room until I’m standing just behind him.

“Baz,” I say quietly before softly adding, “love,” as I place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“What are you doing, Snow?” He asks without turning to look at me.

“Don’t call me Snow.”

“Fine.” He finally turns to look at me. I have to adjust my hold on his shoulder, but I don’t let go. “What are you doing, Simon?”

I’m not sure whether I should feel glad or worried that he called me that, that he gave in so easily.

I slide my hand over until it rests in the space where his shoulder meets his neck, running my thumb over his collar bone.

“What are you doing?” He asks again.

“Nothing,” I say, even as I bring my other hand up to rest on his waist and pull him closer, the same way that I wanted to in the hallway.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” he says in a near-whisper.

“What does it look like then?”

His eyes widen as I push him back until he’s leaning against the wall, next to the window.

“It looks like…” His eyes drop to my mouth, and the words stop coming.

“What?” I prompt him.

“I,” he shakes his head and looks back up at me. “Why are you doing this?”

“Tell me to stop,” I tell him, moving my hand up his neck and combing my fingers into his hair.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“What do you want then?”

“Kiss me.”

I do. I push forward until there is no longer any space between us. I slide the hand on his hip around until my arm is wrapped around his back, and with the other hand, I tangle my fingers in his hair, using the leverage to tilt his head down to mine. Then, when I think he’s starting to get impatient, I lean forward and kiss him.

A sigh escapes my lips as our lips finally meet. He pushes into me, and I tighten my grip around, smiling against his mouth before deepening the kiss. The kiss is perfect.

“I’m still not a princess,” he says when we pull away for air, and I chuckle lightly, kissing him again.

“You’re _my_ princess,” I whisper into his ear, and I feel him shiver against me. “You’ll always be my princess.”


End file.
